She's a Rebel // Ben Finn x Princess

Chapter 13

The weak morning sun's beams coaxed my body into the strange limbo between waking and sleeping. If I had been offered the choice, I would have lived permanently in that sweet purgatory, devoid of responsibilities or stress. I didn't have the choice, however, my eyes opening before I had the chance to fully enjoy the moment. I groaned, and I heard a soft laugh in response. Confused, I took the effort to fully engage my vision, to the not unpleasant sight of Ben sitting beside my bed, a battered copy of "The Pangs of Sunset" resting on his lap.

"Good morning, my Queen," he snapped the book shut, giving me his full attention. "How are you on this fine morning?"

"Ben, I'm so sorry," I replied, quickly. It was a relief to realise that the walls around me were, in fact, recognisable as my own chambers, and not something close to what I imagine a Hobbe would feel comfortable living in, as I had imagined in the middle of the night. "I'm really sorry."

"What for?" He laughed, a sound soothingly similar to wind chimes, "I just thank Avo that you're alive, do you have any idea how terrified I was when I discovered you were gone? I mean, it's not the first time I've had to send a search party out to rescue you," his effortless smile betrayed nothing, but his eyes scouted my face, presumably looking for any sign of pain or discomfort, "could you do me a favour, and stop worrying me like that, please?"

"Never," I smiled back, "you wanted your job back, Finn, don't complain that you have to do it." He nodded, his fringe momentarily falling onto his face; I watched, transfixed, as he flicked it back without thinking, his gaze never leaving me. "Thank you, honestly, Ben. I don't know what I'd do without you. And I'm truly, genuinely, completely sorry for not listening to you."

"I keep saying that, you know, I should be one of those, what do they call 'em? Those guys who stand in the centre of Brightwall village and shout about the evils in the Temple of Shadows," he paused, mock-thinking, staring at the ceiling, "people would flock just to hear me talk. The words of a genius, I'd say, but critics have been-"

"I meant about the banshee, don't get ahead of yourself," I laughed, and Ben pouted, the adorable expression of a needy puppy, his smile never fading. "When are we going back? I'd love to give your whole 'multiple people attack the banshee' idea a chance, if you'd have me."

"As much as I'd love to test out the full extent of your willingness to listen to my ideas," Ben leaned closer to me, his hand on my forearm, his tone dropping into a far more sincere one, "soldier-slash-General Ben has to take a backseat to caring friend Ben, for this one, and I have to insist you rest and get better before any more expeditions, okay?"

"I'm a Hero," I protested, thinking of Logan and Reaver and the threats, my heartbeat tripling at the idea of some kind of harm coming to my brother. "I heal quite a bit faster than a normal person." I tried to sit up, my spine creaking like an ancient staircase, the pain forcing me to lay back down. "I promise I'll be fine. Let's go today - now, even."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that," he murmured, quietly, almost absent-mindedly tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, and my world calmed, the fires of anxiety quelled. I briefly wondered if he'd had much experience caring for sick people. Then I realised I was being stupid. Of course he had. Everyone he knew had died, and he'd been there for most of them. I looked up, almost pitying, before I saw the genuine care in his expression, the love in his actions and the sparkle in his eye. How could I pity someone who, after everything, still cared so deeply, so fearlessly? Everything in me wanted to protect him, keep him safe - yet he was the one looking after me.

"Thank you, Benjamin," I replied, after a long pause. He breathed, or laughed, or coughed, or something, a small noise that I couldn't quite decode the meaning of. Watching him sit back down, I felt that it was the right time to tell him, to confess but I found myself merely hoping that the comfortable air around us would carry my intentions from my mind to his so I wouldn't have to deal with the nervousness. I didn't know how to, there probably weren't even words to convey the nuances the way I wanted to and...

"Anytime, Rosie, honestly," Ben answered, his smile shining brilliantly as he winked. "I've been told my bed service is second to none," I sighed, exaggerating, making no effort to hide my laugh. "I'll check on you tonight, and I'll keep Hobson off your back. You're welcome in advance."

I pulled the blanket over my face, the butterflies in my stomach mixing with my utter shame making me feel almost nauseous, until I heard the soft thud of the door. Only then, I let myself sigh at my utter failure to devise a confessional plan.